Page 80 of Prognosis Bad Timing

Because then he might hold her and she couldn’t be responsible for her actions if he touched her. She was trying to salvage as much pride out of this as she could —he didn’t need to see her impersonation of a raving wreck.

‘Goodbye, Charlie.’

She turned and left the lounge room, uncaring about how or if he left. She just had to get away before she crumpled. Before she laid her head against his chest and begged him to love her.

Love them.

Wandering into her old bedroom, she spied Dana fast asleep on a portable bed, all snug and safe. One blonde lock covering an eye. Her daughter was going to be heartbroken.

‘Damn you, Charlie. Damn you for making us love you.’

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Carrie felt like someonehad put red-hot pokers in her eyes the next morning. She’d been up until four going over the ideas that Charlie had given her and considering them in context with the centre’s current financial woes.

He’d had been right when he’d said she’d know how to fix it. But she’d been impressed with his thoughts and she’d felt a buzz of excitement and possibility course through her bloodstream, which had kept her awake despite her tiredness.

The potential and possibilities for the centre were enormous. But it needed a lot of TLC and someone who had both medical and administration skills. Charlie was hopeless. He was a fantastic doctor, a caring and dedicated advocate for the community.

But his business acumen sucked. In short, the centre needed someone just like her!

Not her. Someone like her.

She clicked on the print icon on her office computer screen and yawned as she waited for the multi-page document to spit out of the machine beneath her desk.

It was her report. Her altered report.

It encompassed the problems but also the solutions and Charlie’s grand plans to make it a facility that would do Brisbane proud. She would take it to Charlie and then she would submit it to the board.

Opening another document, she clicked print again. A copy of her resignation was in her hands in a matter of seconds. She looked it over, fear and uncertainty grasping at her gut. But as she folded it to fit into a sterile yellow envelope she knew she was doing the right thing.

This job was slowly strangling her. She knew that now. Thanks to Charlie and the centre.

She was ready to go back to the coalface.

Passing the boardroom on her way to the medical director’s office, report and envelope in hand, she felt strangely compelled to enter.

On this, her last day, she needed to confront a few ghosts.

She eyed the rich, elegant décor, inhaled the smell of leather and wood. Before her current assignment this room had always given her goose-bumps. There was something strangely seductive about the management nerve centre. The room where all the decisions were made.

The power was almost tangible.

She had known the minute she’d set foot in it that this was her destiny. Now the room was stifling. Oppressive. The thought of sitting at this table and talking policies and strategic planning left her empty.

How stupid had she been? Thinking that this was her path in life. If nothing else, and despite her broken heart, she had Charlie to thank for removing her blinkers.

Carrie strode purposefully to her boss’s office only to find he wasn’t in. She placed the report – which she’d also emailed - and the yellow envelope on his desk, where he couldn’t fail to see it when he returned. Then she went to her office, picked up her stuff and walked out of the hospital.

Today was a new beginning for her.

Her personal life may be a mess but her medical career was finally back on track.

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When Carrie arrivedat the drop-in clinic Charlie was in his office, talking to Joe. ‘Hi, Joe,’ she greeted.

‘Hey, Carrie.’ He winked. ‘We missed you around here.’

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